


Throes of Lucidity

by Asuka



Category: TRUMP - D2
Genre: Gen, REVERSE Cast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asuka/pseuds/Asuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Plotting" is such a vulgar word. What Angelico intends for Ul is infinitely more sophisticated, even if it's just as vile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throes of Lucidity

“Ul de Rico.”

The name rolls off his tongue like a landslide and splashes against his ears like a ball of mud finding its target. He says it again, and this time it tastes like the thorns of a poisoned rose. He says it again and it’s like being stroked by an angel’s feathered wings.

Ul de Rico.

He hates him almost as much as he hates every other piece of vampire trash at this school, all the useless teachers and the idiot students that are barely useful as his slaves. He makes use of his family name ( _de Rico, de Rico_ ) as much as his hideous older brother does and he fawns over that dirty-blooded mongrel as if it is worthy of being treated as a pet, as if kicking it until its slimy blood returns to the dirt it came from isn’t the only thing it deserves. 

He pretends to be caring and considerate and gentle but sometimes his mask slips and his hatred and contempt for all the things he pretends to value shines in his eyes and _oh Ul, oh Ul,_ at times like that Angelico can’t help but fancy himself half in love with the beautiful mad little creature. He too is trapped in a world not of his choosing, but unlike Angelico, he hasn’t taken any steps to correct that.

He stares at his hand, folding his gloved fingers down one by one by one and lifting them back up again, imagines wrapping them around Ul’s throat, seeing the hatred he only feels comfortable showing him spilling out of his smoldering eyes and _oh Ul, oh Ul,_ consuming him until he has no choice but to loosen his grip on his neck and tighten it around his charming white ribbon instead, pulling it undone and casting it aside and rolling down that constricting collar and biting into his lovely lovely neck and drinking in that de Rico blood. Then he’ll own him, and he’ll be subject to his every whim, and _oh Ul, you’ll like this, it’s everything you ever wanted, just in all the wrong ways_ and his pretty shining eyes and his rough high voice will hate at him. He’ll be trading one prison for another one, and he doesn’t care if he likes this one better or not because either way Angelico wins.

They’ll work together, they’ll kill together, and _Ul, Ul de Rico, you’d be happier without that pesky older brother of yours, don’t lie to me, I’ve seen it in your eyes, and your eyes wouldn’t lie to me. Let’s kill him first, my dear sweet pet_ and before the night ends they’ll be bathing in a pool of Raphael’s blood and just enough of Ul’s to top it off. Maybe he’ll hate him more, maybe his eyes will go dead like his sniveling sycophant of a brother’s already are, dead behind those wire frames, but they won’t go dead for long, because Ul clings to life the way Mondrian clung to the roof even after Georges’ boot heel crushed his fingers to dust. And Angelico will be there not to snap them back one by one until he drops, but to catch his hand and give him everything he wants at the price of everything he doesn’t.

He’ll hate him, he’ll hate him, oh he better hate him, because it will give him so much joy to offer him a spark of hope, to relax his control long enough that he can escape or attack him or try to kill himself and of course he won’t succeed but it’ll be fun to watch him try, like watching a cat with its tail on fire try to put itself out, _ah, my dear, sweet Ul, my Ul, it hurts, of course it hurts, but my Ul, this is what happens when you catch the Lord Angelico’s eye. You brought this upon me, you brought this upon yourself, so burn, my kitten, and I won’t let you become ash so long as you cry so beautifully._ He’ll raise him high above the lesser beings not fit to touch either of them, and bestow the glorious suffering he deserves upon him. And Ul will love him, love him even as he hates him, not by Angelico’s command but by his own heart’s betrayal, _oh Ul, you can’t help yourself_ , he’ll see his power and everything he’ll give him and he’ll hate himself so much for not taking it for himself that he’ll love him for doing just that, _my Ul, my Ul_ , and he’ll love him and serve him as his best and most faithful servant even as he hates him, and hates himself for loving him, and hates himself for hating him, _aaahhhh_ , an endless spiral of hatred that will make his eyes so very beautiful and so very bright. The radiance that suffuses his body will spill out of him with every drop of blood he sheds until he’s more blinding than the sun, a sun burning its best and brightest just before it is sucked in by the looming black hole. 

He tosses his head back, ponytail bouncing against his back like a push of encouragement, and laughs, low and echoing. The pitch of it burrows into his ears and insinuates something like desperation, and he stops abruptly. “Never,” he hisses, and looks for something to crush. There’s nothing to be desperate about. Ul _will_ rule with him, below him, but nonetheless with him, and they will kill and kill together, until only they, the worthy, the high-ranking, the pureblooded, the elite remain. It’s inevitable that the world will eventually reach its full and glorious potential just as it is inevitable that Angelico will lift it there with his own ambition, and with the power he possesses, it is inevitable that anyone he wishes will join him. And oh, does he ever want Ul.

The words slip out one last time to perfume the musty castle air. “Ul de Rico. You are mine.”


End file.
